kiss me in the shadow of every spark
by splendidlyimperfect
Summary: The worst storm Magnolia has seen in ages is raging through the night, and Rogue calls Sting to pick him up from work. It leads to minor disaster, which in turn leads to something more.


A storm raged through the city.

Rogue yawned and looked out at the café. Most of the patrons were gone, with a few stragglers sipping their lattes and chatting with friends. He glanced up at the clock – only forty-five more minutes, and the rain was pounding down, making blurry patterns on the window panes.

"It's getting worse," Yukino commented, nudging him out of the way to open the pastry cabinet and start boxing up some of the croissants. "It's really coming down out there."

Rogue nodded, watching the rain pound down onto the asphalt of the parking lot, filling the potholes and spilling down the edge of the curb into the drain. He jumped a little as a flash of lightning brightened the café for a moment, followed nearly immediately afterward by a rumbling crack of thunder.

"Shit!" Yukino jumped and nearly dropped the box of croissants. Rogue managed to catch it before it hit the ground, handing it back to her. "Maybe we should close early, I'm worried about the—"

Yukino's sentence was interrupted by another brilliant flash and a pounding rumble of thunder that shook the whole building. A tree just outside the building shuddered, then cracked nearly in half and was slammed sideways by the heavy winds.

There was a _schwoooom_ sound, and then the power went out.

"Fuck." Rogue reached one hand out to the counter and the other to grab Yukino's arm. "Hang on a sec." He grabbed his phone from his pocket, flipping on the flashlight and panning it around the café. "Guess we are closing early."

The patrons throughout the café began to do the same as Rogue, flipping on their flashlights and looking worriedly out at the fallen tree. Yukino sighed, setting down the box of croissants.

"Well folks, we're closing up!" she called out, eliciting nervous laughter from the patrons. "Please be careful out there!" She turned to Rogue as the few remaining people dropped off their dishes at the counter and stumbled to the front door, tripping over the carpets and the step.

"You okay?" Rogue asked as Yukino took out her own phone, then flipped through her contacts.

"Yeah, I've just gotta call the owner and get someone out here about the power lines." She glanced out the door, but it was so dark that nothing was visible except the outlines of leaves blowing in the gusts of wind. "We won't be able to get any cleaning done, so I guess you're done early. You got a ride?"

Rogue shook his head. He was supposed to walk home, but there was no way he'd make it far in this weather. He pulled out his phone and scrolled past a few names, shaking his head and finally landing on Sting. Rogue hesitated with his thumb over the number. Sting was really the only person who lived close enough to come pick him up, but...

"He'll say yes," Yukino said, raising her eyebrow. "Just text him."

Rogue grumbled. He didn't want to text Sting, because that meant he had to see Sting, which meant he had to control the enormous, inconvenient crush he had on Sting. One that made him say stupid things and make dumb jokes that weren't funny and stare at Sting's lips until it was awkward. Rogue's ears burned just thinking about it. He sighed.

 _Hey, I'm sorry to bother you but the power went out at the café and I can't walk home in the storm. Would it be out of your way to pick me up?_

"Seriously?" Yukino rolled her eyes at the message and grabbed for Rogue's phone. He swatted her hand out of the way and scowled. "'Would it be out of your way'? What are you, ninety?"

"Shut up," he muttered, hitting send. Less than a minute later, his phone dinged.

 _of course man i can be there in 5?_

 _Thank you, I really appreciate it._

Yukino rolled her eyes again, then turned back to her phone as someone answered on the other end. Rogue used his phone's light to make his way to the back of the store, tugging off his work shirt and pulling on a hoodie. Another crack of thunder shook the store and he jumped, shivering. When was this going to let up?

"Your boyfriend's here!" Yukino shouted. Rogue sighed, shouldering his bag and heading back out to the front. Sting's beat-up car sat in the parking lot, headlights illuminating the heavy rain pounding down onto the pavement.

"You sure you're gonna be okay by yourself?" Rogue asked, turning to look at Yukino. She waved him toward the door, still on the phone. "Yeah, Minerva's on her way, I'll be fine. Big tough girl, I can handle myself." She winked at him and he laughed, waving as he headed for the door.

The second he pushed it open, he was pelted with heavy raindrops that immediately soaked through his sweater and plastered his hair to his head. Rogue darted across the sidewalk to the parking lot, yanking the door open and practically jumping into the front seat.

"Shit, this is insane!" Sting turned to look at Rogue, who shook out his hair a little, wiping his face with the sleeve of his drenched hoodie. "You okay?" His voice seemed tense, and Rogue frowned.

"Yeah, just... damp." Rogue shivered, putting his hands out in front of the heaters which were blowing air that wasn't quite warm enough to be effective. "Thanks so much for coming to get me, I really appre—"

"Dude, it's not a problem." Rogue tried not to stare at Sting's smile, his cheekbones, his lip piercing. _Fuck_ , he was hot. "It might take us a while to get home, though." The wipers were running at full speed and the windshield was still blurry with rain. Sting turned up the music – some sort of classic rock Rogue didn't recognize – and turned to look behind him before pulling out of the parking lot.

"All the lights are out," Rogue murmured, looking down the street that was nearly pitch black. Sting flicked on the high-beams, creeping along the road at a quarter of the speed limit. "Look at all the trees!"

Several more of the trees lining the street had fallen into the road, and Sting drove around them carefully, hands tight on the steering wheel. Another strike of lightning struck down from the sky, seemingly right in front of them, and when the thunder clapped above them Sting shouted, jumping in his seat.

"Fuck, sorry," he gasped, shoulders tensing. Rogue frowned.

"You okay?" He asked, shivering in his damp hoodie. Sting swallowed, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Yeah, I just..." he shook his head, navigating around another downed tree. They were approaching an intersection where the lights were out, and Sting slowed down even further, searching each road carefully before moving through. He exhaled shakily as he turned down one of the side streets.

"Fuck, I can barely see," Sting muttered, leaning forward to peer out the windshield. The rain on the roof was so loud it drowned out the music, and the water was pouring down the glass, blurring everything in front of them. "This is ridicu—"

Another flash of lightning nearly blinded them both, coming down only feet away from the front of the car. The tree it hit split with an enormous _crack_ , and it slammed down into the windshield just as the thunder roared above them.

The sound was deafening and Rogue clapped his hands over his ears, leaning back away from the windshield as it cracked and shattered. He winced as sharp pieces of glass pricked his forearms, and large chunks of the windshield fell into the vehicle.

"Holy shit," he gasped as the cracking stopped and rain started to pour into the car. He looked over at Sting and his eyes widened. The blonde boy's head hung forward limply, forehead bleeding from a deep cut and cheeks flecked with smaller marks from the chips of glass. "Shit, Sting..."

Rogue struggled with his seatbelt, finally unbuckling it and leaning over to his friend. He touched Sting's cheek tentatively, swiping at the blood and pressing the sleeve of his sweater against the wound.

"Sting, hey, wake up," he said, tapping Sting's cheek and shaking his shoulder a little. "C'mon, look at me." Sting groaned, eyelids fluttering open until his eyes were focused uncertainly on Rogue's face. "Hey, do you know where you are?"

"Y-yeah, driving you..." Sting trailed off, bringing a hand to his forehead and wincing. He looked at the tree, whose branches were now halfway into the car, and cursed. "Shit... are you okay?"

"I'm fine, but you're bleeding," Rogue said, pulling his sweater away, shaking his head and pressing back down as blood still seeped from the wound. "We need to get to the hospital..."

"How?" Sting asked, blinking slowly. "It's probably not that bad, the ER's gonna be full of people tonight. And how would we get there?" He groaned, rubbing his forehead.

"Your place isn't far from here, right?" Rogue shivered – his pants were now soaked from the rain coming in the broken windshield, and his hoodie was still damp from earlier. "Can we walk?"

"Y-yeah," Sting said uncertainly, squinting at the intersection sign ahead of them. "Just a couple blocks." He undid his seatbelt, then reached up and touched Rogue's hand on his forehead. Rogue sucked in a short breath, then pulled away, opening his door and ducking out into the rain. He dashed around the vehicle, pulling Sting's door open and helping him out.

"You okay?" Rogue asked as Sting stumbled a bit. He was pressing against the wound with his own sweater now, and swayed unsteadily on his feet. Rogue slipped an arm around his waist and Sting leaned into him gratefully.

The trip took less than ten minutes on foot, but by the time they got to Sting's apartment they were both soaked and exhausted. Sting shivered violently as they stepped into the apartment. It was pitch black other than the areas illuminated by Rogue's phone's flashlight. He groaned when he saw that the battery was only at twelve percent.

"We need to bandage up your head," Rogue said between shivers, gesturing at Sting's head. "Come sit down on the couch."

"Cl-clothes first," Sting insisted, tugging at the zipper of his hoodie. "I'm f-fucking freezing."

Rogue felt a flush of heat rush to his cheeks as he balanced his phone on the coat rack and helped Sting pull off his sweater. He swallowed heavily as Sting tugged off his shirt as well – even in the dim light of his phone, it was overwhelming to see Sting like this. Droplets of water clung to Sting's shoulders, running down his back to the curve just above his—

"You too," Sting said, turning around and gesturing to Rogue's sweater. It took all of Rogue's willpower to not drag his gaze over Sting's chest and abs. "Come to my room, we can get dry stuff." He took a step and swayed unsteadily, and Rogue caught him before he fell.

"Sit," Rogue insisted, grabbing his phone and guiding Sting to the couch. "I'll grab clothes. Where's your first aid kit?"

Digging through Sting's drawers felt strange, like it was a place Rogue shouldn't touch. He hurriedly dried himself off in the bathroom and pulled his hair into a ponytail, then tugged on Sting's borrowed clothes. Wearing Sting's boxers was... strange.

"Here." Rogue came back to the couch and handed Sting a towel, setting down the clothes on the coffee table. Sting looked at him with a dazed expression, still holding his damp shirt to the cut on his head. "C'mon, dry off," Rogue mumbled, dropping his gaze to the floor. Fuck, Sting was cute – even when he was concussed.

"Oh," Sting said quietly, taking the towel and drying himself off hesitantly. Rogue helped him tug the shirt and hoodie over his head, then gestured to his jeans.

"You have to..." he trailed off, cheeks hot. Sting frowned, blinking slowly, and looked down at his pants.

"Oh," he said again, standing slowly and reaching down to unbutton his jeans. Rogue squeaked, quickly turning away and looking out the window where the storm raged on. "I, uh... help?" Rogue exhaled, venturing a glance back at Sting, who had his pants halfway down his thighs and was struggling to not fall down.

"Ah, can... you..." Rogue swallowed heavily, trying not to stare at Sting's thighs. "T-turn around?" Sting complied, shuffling uncertainly, and Rogue quickly tugged down Sting's pants and – with terrified reluctance – his boxers. _Shit_ , now Sting's ass was right in his face and he was probably going to die of either lust or embarrassment.

"Sorry," Sting whispered as Rogue helped him lift his feet out of the soaking wet jeans. Rogue shook his head, trying not to succumb to his desire to lean forward and kiss the side of Sting's hip. He grabbed the towel and quickly dried Sting off, then helped him into the dry boxers and sweats. Rogue stood up, nearly falling over himself from the blood rushing to the wrong part of his body.

"'s fine," he breathed, gesturing for Sting to sit back down. "Lemme see your head."

The cut wasn't that deep after all, and a quick Google search told Rogue that while head wounds bled a lot and concussions seemed scary, it probably didn't actually warrant a trip to the hospital. He cleaned the cut gently – even though Sting complained the whole time – and bandaged it, then settled down on the couch just as the light from his flashlight disappeared, leaving them in pitch blackness.

"Thanks," Sting said softly, leaning back and closing his eyes. "Fuck, that hurts." Rogue made a sympathetic noise, then another strike of lightning lit up the apartment, showing everything in stark negative. Another loud crack of thunder rocked the apartment, and Rogue heard a soft whimper, then a quiet, "fuck."

"Are you okay?" Rogue slid over on the couch, feeling out until his hand brushed... something. Sting's hand was immediately on his, gripping it tightly. Rogue's breath stuttered in his chest and there was a long pause before he squeezed back gently. He wasn't certain if this was the concussion, or if Sting was genuinely holding his hand, but he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity.

"I just..." Sting's voice sounded small and Rogue wished he could see him. "I don't... _likethethunder."_ The last words came out in an embarrassed rush and Sting tried to pull his hand away from Rogue, who just squeezed tighter. "It's stupid."

"No it's not," Rogue insisted, shuffling closer. He could feel Sting shivering even with the dry clothes, and he leaned back to the other end of the couch, feeling around until he found the blanket he'd seen earlier. He draped the blanket over both of their laps and Sting made an appreciative sound, but didn't stop shivering.

"S-sorry," Sting whispered, pulling the blanket up to his chin with one hand but still holding Rogue's with the other. Their palms were arm against each other and it was all Rogue could focus on. "I j-just..." Rogue suddenly realized that not only was Sting shivering, he was _shaking_.

"Don't be sorry," Rogue said quietly, hesitating before shifting a little closer. He bumped into Sting's leg and jumped when Sting twined their fingers together.

"Just... I feel dumb," Sting said softly, frustration evident in his voice. Rogue wished he could see him, see what was happening on his face. Instead he slowly pressed his shoulder against Sting's, and felt his face flush hot when Sting leaned into it. Sting's voice was small when he added, "Little kids are scared of thunderstorms."

Rogue sighed. "I'm scared of snakes." He could feel Sting turn to look at him even though they couldn't see anything in the dark. It made more aware of Sting's breathing, his posture, the way he smelled like rain and fresh laundry. Rogue could feel the soft hairs of Sting's arm brushing against him, and the warmth of their shoulders pressing together.

"Really?" Sting let out a shaky puff of laughter and Rogue felt him shift a bit closer, resting his knee on Rogue's thigh. "I, uh..." Rogue could hear him swallow. "I'm scared of a lotta dumb things."

"Oh," Rogue said quietly, trying to keep his breathing calm as he slowly, carefully ran his thumb over Sting's knuckles. Sting let out a stuttered breath. "L-like what?"

Sting was silent for a moment and then Rogue startled as he felt Sting's fingers moving up his arm until they found his cheek. "Like doing this," Sting whispered, and Rogue's heart nearly stopped as Sting leaned in and kissed him.

Sting tasted like cranberries. Rogue let out a soft laugh as they bumped noses a few times in the dark, but once they found each other, the laughter became a quiet moan. Rogue fumbled around until he found the soft hairs at the back of Sting's neck, twisting them around his fingers.

Sting's hand cupped Rogue's jaw and his thumb traced over Rogue's cheekbone, leaving behind little sparks that made the kiss deeper and the soft sounds louder.

Not being able to see Sting made the gentle touches a hundred times more thrilling, and Rogue moaned happily when Sting's other hand came up under his shirt. He turned toward Sting, trying to find a less awkward angle, and Sting took the opportunity to lie back on the couch and pull Rogue on top of him.

"Okay?" he asked as Rogue settled over his hips, one hand still in his hair. Sting traced his fingers up Rogue's back and drew them back down again, and Rogue could picture the expression on his face.

"Y-yeah," he said softly, leaning down again and carefully brushing his nose against Sting's cheek until he found his lips again. Sting moaned softly into Rogue's mouth and moved his hands to Rogue's hips, thumbs rubbing the soft skin there. Rogue felt breathless, blood rushing away from his head and to... somewhere else. They kissed and kissed until Rogue couldn't feel his lips.

"You feel so good," Sting whispered when they finally broke apart, voice gentle as if to keep the dark silence from breaking. "I've wanted to do this for... forever." Rogue's breath stuttered and he leaned his forehead against Sting's, feeling the gentle brush of Sting's fingers against his skin, the places where their legs touched, the pounding of Sting's heart under his hand.

"M-me too," Rogue admitted. Sting made a happy noise and wriggled further into the couch, tugging Rogue down to lay next to him. Rogue found Sting's hair again with his fingers and brushed it back, combing his fingers through it. "How's your head?"

Sting grunted. "Not great," he admitted, then reached out and pulled Rogue against his chest. Rogue sighed happily, resting his head under Sting's chin and wrapping an arm around him. Sting pressed a kiss to his hair. "I'll live, though."

"I'm sorry," Rogue murmured, tugging the blanket up and around them. Sting laughed and shook his head.

"If this is what I get from it," he said, kissing Rogue's forehead, "then it was totally worth it."


End file.
